Mona Lisa Smile
by jcy
Summary: The artist had painted her when she was only twelve, but Lord Vader had yet to figure out her smile, even when the answer was right under his nose.
1. Default Chapter

**Title: Mona Lisa Smile**

It is the artist who begins the conversation.

"It would be wise for you to let me paint her," the artist murmurs, taking his first sip of the hoi-broi in front of him. He winces as it stings his tongue. And then for a touch of nonchalant respect, the artist adds,

"_Lord _Organa."

Standing now, Bail Organa towers over the lithe artist who merely glances up, barely concerned. The artist has known far worse than a politician and having once tried to be one himself, he knows that a politician's threat is only words – tough talk.

_On the other hand, a Sith Lord's threat..._

And that reminds him why he is here in the first place.

"I'm going to be blunt, Lord Organa," the artist says firmly. "Usually, I don't prefer to paint royalty."

_Except for **her**, _the artist remembers. _And she's why I'm here._

"Six years ago, I completed a portrait of your daughter, Leia," the artist recalls regretfully. "And you displayed it to your guests like any proud father. Unfortunately, one of your guests, an unwelcome one, set his eyes upon it and when he heard my name, he sunk into a most...peculiar obsession."

"Padme Naberrie Amidala," Bail whispers, the name like a long-forgotten curse.

"Your daughter resembles Padme as a little girl in so many ways," the artist says, remembering curls and large, adoring eyes. "Lord Vader wishes (_demands) _another portrait of her."

And as Bail, who trembles, sits down and puts his head in his hands, it is his daughter who rushes out of the shadows and to his side. Twelve year old Leia Organa whose sienna hair curls at her shoulders, whose white dress rustles and folds like a lily as she kneels by her father, whose wide, dark eyes with a dusting of thick lashes glare at the man who has disturbed her beloved parent so.

"Who are you?" she demands. She expects to be obeyed. _Like Lord Vader._

"Palo," the artist answers, but inside, he thinks...

_Padme._


	2. Beautiful, Pregnant, But Dead

**Chapter 2 — **

"I don't sit still very well," the Princess warns him, sprawling out on the stone bench.

Palo smiles faintly and blinks as another girl's lines and colors fade into Leia.

_Eyes, less lashes on the bottom than Leia and the double lid more exotic, dart to glance at him before glimmering with a good-natured laugh._

"_Why do you want to paint me anyway?" the 12 year old asks lightly and turns her head so he can see her lips twisted between a pout and a smirk. "I'm sure you could find a more gorgeous creature to grace your artwork."_

"_I don't want a gorgeous creature," he says, exasperated. "I want —,"_

_But somehow, 'I want you' seems...inappropriate. Instead, he says,_

"_Padme, you're pretty and you're...different."_

_Because that's what she was. Different. Still a girl with round cheeks, but she would be an extraordinary woman. He couldn't find the exact words to describe her. Not yet beautiful, but she would be. _

"Palo?"

And the figure of his memory vanishes, leaving Leia who says his name almost with difficulty.

He mutters something about downing too much brandy last night and she doesn't ask any further. After all, doesn't her own Daddy, the esteemed Bail Organa, drink and drink more often now when bad news comes?

"Why do you want to paint me anyway?" Leia asks as she watches the man pause while setting up the easel.

He responds with a question of his own. "What do you know about Darth Vader?"

He has caught her interest now and she sits up, her eyes narrowed.

"He's a tyrant, him and the Emperor!" she bursts out. "A lifeless piece of black machinery that silences every whisperer, every thinker of rebellion with his sword. He's like this rabid dog that the Emperor unleashes whenever it suits his mood."

"You put a lot of thought into all that, haven't you Princess?" Palo murmurs wryly and then tells her to stay still so he can sketch her face. He prefers to paint the old way instead of using holos and other technology.

"I need to know the truth," she retorts firmly.

_Careful, Princess. The truth could get you silenced by Lord's Vader sword._

Palo can feel her eyes on him. _She's analyzing me, like a true politician._

"Why does Vader want a picture of me?"

"I don't know," Palo replies honestly. He can't lie to her. She would know or she would find out and she was the type that considered lying a capital crime.

_Palo stopped in front of the door. And mused about his situation. He was going to face Darth Vader, up close and personal. _

_Why am I here? He wondered. Then he remembers the clone troopers living in his home, the clone troopers that shoved the barrels of their huge guns against his wife's temple. He is here for her and for his child that won't be allowed to wake up until he goes to Vader._

_And here he is, wondering if after he enters those doors, will he come out? Will Vader keep his promise and order the troopers to leave his home, to leave his wife and child alone?_

_The doors slide open and snap shut as soon as he's in. But the infamous Sith Lord is not inside. There is no feeling of dread, of fear that echoes in your ears and makes your heart and soul ache. There is only the silence of the white room, completely unfurnished._

_Except for the two paintings that lay down on the floor , side by side. Both paintings are his. One so old and one so new. _

_Palo kneeled to trace his finger down the frame of the first portrait. Padme. Padme Amidala. Twelve years old. Before she was a queen, and a senator, and before she was paraded dead and beautiful and preg..._

_But even though Padme had not yet been beautiful at 12, she was so in the painting. Beautiful and kind and...sad. No, not sad, Palo tells himself. Why would she be sad? She was serious, that' s it._

_And the second portrait is of another girl. Leia Organa. But her face could've been 6 year old Padme's face and as Palo steps back to look at both, they melt together as one. _

_Padme. Leia. Beautiful, kind, but sad. The same. But Padme was pregnant when she died! Beautiful, pregnant, but dead._

_And suddenly, his mouth goes dry because there is that sound behind him. That inhuman, harsh sound of a vacuum, of an icy wind, of something that feeds by sucking the light around it. _

_This is what I came here for, Palo tells himself and turns to face Lord Vader. _


End file.
